


Peace

by misguidedmalfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Malfoy Manor, Other, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22264864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misguidedmalfoy/pseuds/misguidedmalfoy
Summary: Narcissa Malfoy considers her and her family's place in the world the night after the Battle of Hogwarts.
Kudos: 13





	Peace

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I haven't written Draco fic in about four years, but I've recently returned to the world of Harry Potter and have decided to give it a shot with my improved writing skills. I hope you enjoy, and as always, I do not own the series.

The clock strikes midnight. It’s May third. 

The war is officially over, the Dark Lord is dead.

I’m home, my family is home, and we’re finally safe.

My husband is asleep on the couch, the side of his face still darkened from a terrible bruise despite my best attempt at healing it. I tended to his black eye before he fell asleep in attempt to heal it faster. I know it bothers him whether he says it or not, and I won’t allow him to suffer from something so minor after all the suffering he’s already endured. Regardless of his crimes, he is my husband, and in my love for him I desire to see peace. 

My son bid both of us goodnight before retreating upstairs around seven in the evening. He wouldn’t let me trim his hair to remove the burnt parts from that fire he lost Vincent in, nor would he let me heal the cuts on his face. He wouldn’t let me do anything to care for him; he insisted he was “Alright, mum,” and wanted nothing more than to sleep. It was the most subdued manner I’ve ever seen from him, and it unsettled me.

My first instinct was to go after him, force him to see my way and accept my care, but Lucius stopped me with a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Let him rest Cissa,” he said, “he needs it.” Part of me wanted to ignore his advice, trail after Draco anyway, but I knew it would likely incite a quarrel. So reluctantly, I agreed, and joined Lucius on the couch. 

Now at five past midnight, I’m the only one awake in the manor. That is, if Draco is actually asleep like he says. A mixture of guilt and worry stirs me, and I can no longer allow myself to find solace on the couch.

I glance at Lucius to ensure he’s still asleep and decide I’ll pursue my concern.

The floor is cold despite the fire, but I compel myself to leave the room and walk to the stairwell. I hated walking at night in the manor before the war. I hated going anywhere in the manor, day or night, during the war. Now, a strange peace washes over me. It’s as if the manor has gone to sleep with the family.

I climb the stairs to Draco’s room on the third floor. A chill washes over me as I do and I can’t help but shiver. Without the warmth of the fireplace, it’s quite cold; I don’t let that deter me. I wrap my robes around me more tightly in a feeble attempt to conserve the small bit of warmth I have left and continue down the silent hall.

I reach Draco’s room and hesitate. Part of me is worried about what I may find, worried I’ll have lost him. No, I tell myself, Draco is strong. He will be alright. I take a deep breath and slowly turn the doorknob and push the door open. Upon entering, I find the room mostly untouched as it was when he last left. Am I in my teenage son’s room or a hotel? It’s nearly the same: the curtains are not drawn, the bed is neatly made. My eyes stop at his bed.

On the unmade bed in a crumpled suit lies my son, asleep as he said he would be.He’s curled up on his side with his knees to his chest. He’s taken off his shoes but seemingly done nothing else to prepare for sleep. It seems he was perhaps more tired than I perceived this evening. It’s just as cold in this room as it was in the hall and he’s on top of the duvet without a blanket. That just won’t do. He may have rejected my care while awake, but I won’t allow him to do so in sleep.

I walk to the bench by his window and lift the lid, taking out a carefully folded blanket. There’s no use in waking him up and getting him to change, I know he needs the rest. Instead, I drape the blanket over him as he is and sit on the edge of his bed. 

Trails of dried blood reside by his lip and hairline; more injuries he wouldn’t allow me to care for. I’ll have to heal it as soon as he wakes. For now, sleep is his top priority, and I’ll leave him to it.

I watch him breathe for a moment. I haven’t seen him this calm in months; there are no lines of worry, he isn’t tense. He’s just my son again. Not a Death Eater, not an assassin, just my teenage son. The worry that brought me to his bedroom has lessened. He is not lost. He’s home. “Sleep well, my dragon,” I whisper. I get to my feet carefully, careful not to shake the bed. He doesn’t stir; I’m grateful.  
I glance at him once more before leaving his room. I close the door silently and walk to the stairwell. My family is at peace; I’m able to find my own peace with this in mind.

I descend the stairs, return to the living room, and take my place at my husband’s side.

The house is quiet for the first time in months. It feels like a home again, not a prison or headquarters. I feel safe.In the back of my mind, I know that everything will likely fall apart again once the trials begin. 

But tonight, and perhaps only for tonight, there’s peace in the Malfoy home.


End file.
